


You Were Always Alright

by melianthegreat



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Drama, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-08 15:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melianthegreat/pseuds/melianthegreat
Summary: The unimaginable happens in Hemburg.





	1. Introduction--Switzerland

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: this is a dark story with a subject many wish to avoid. It's an idea that has been explored before, but if you're sensitive about such things it's best to avoid it.

It was so unexpected. 

When there was time to consider it, James would find everything here had been unexpected. From what happened before to what happened next to what happened after that to whatever the fuck just happened. And none of it made sense. None of it.

He stumbled about in a sort of daze, leaning against a wall for support. Jeremy had given up on the wall supporting him and he'd slumped to the floor. Andy was letting a chair hold onto him. He held his cellphone in shaky hands, trying to dial a number. If anyone felt the way James felt at the moment, they were having trouble wrapping their minds around all this. His soul reeled--who was going to tell the media? Who was going to tell Amazon? What would they want to do first? God, what would he tell Mindy? What about Izzy and Willow? The first question he'd be asked was _what happened and why?_ And quite frankly he didn't know or understand.

The floor came up to meet James, and strong hands seemingly caught him before he could crack his skull on it like an egg. Darkness washed over him, sweet forgetfulness. With any luck he'd simply forget everything forever.


	2. Switzerland

James realized he was lying on a bed before he had become fully awake, and with each passing moment began to regret waking up at all. If he never woke up he wouldn't have to acknowledge what happened. Nobody would ask questions or demand explanations. Someone else would have to handle statements or greet people.

It would be up to someone else to handle arrangements.

James slowly opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital room. Jeremy was sitting in a chair by the window, staring off into space. The look on his face showed he was more than just in deep thought. He'd seen Jeremy before during rough moments--hungover, sore, with flu, food poisoning, various troubles with career or family--but rarely had he seen his friend look truly lost before, truly unsure what was next. If he knew James was watching him he would simply throw on a mask and act as if he was fine. But he wasn't. Nobody was right now.

Something caught Jeremy's attention and he realized James was awake. "Welcome back, May," he said, his tone subdued. 

James blinked a few times, piecing together what led him here. "I passed out," he finally stated.

Jeremy nodded. "The doctor is going to sedate you for the rest of the day," he announced. "You nearly cracked your skull on the floor. If you hadn't been caught, that would've happened. You had what the doctor called a 'stress reaction'. Too much going on emotionally. Your brain just shut down."

James sighed. "It should have just stayed off," he grumbled and turned his face away as his eyes filled with tears. Jeremy sat there, his chair now alongside James' bed, unsure what to say or do. He'd known, many years before James and Richard became involved, that James would take this hard. How could he not? James had loved Richard with every cell of his body. And frankly Jeremy was shocked James had simply fainted in reaction; more than once, when Hammond was in genuine danger, like in British Columbia, Jeremy was convinced that had the worst happened, James would have simply dropped dead. But Jeremy had not anticipated feeling what he felt himself. He had been close to Richard, something members of the public either didn't quite understand or didn't quite accept, willing to believe their public image. But Hammond at times was his baby brother, willing to travel with him or hang out with him getting drunk, or simply being a partner in crime behind the scenes. And like a baby brother, he wasn't afraid to push his buttons or take the piss or even yell at him when he screwed up. Jeremy was realizing there was a hamster-sized hole where his baby brother had been, and he was at a loss. 

"How long have I been here?" James asked softly.

"Just a little while," Jeremy told him. "An hour, maybe. Your sister Jane called. She's flying in to be with you. She'll be here tonight."  
"What about Rich?"

"Jeff Bezos is arranging for any of our families to come," he answered. "We have to be here at least a few days for the investigation. And we all need to process things." He stood and stretched. "I'm going to grab some coffee," he said. "Will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes?"

"Yeah," James nodded. Before Jeremy left, James put a shaky hand on his forearm. "Jezza? Why did it happen?" he asked, his voice so low it almost could not be heard.

Jeremy stopped, but didn't turn to look at him. "I don't know," he said, his voice flat. "But it happened." Jeremy left the room and walked down the hallway.

He needed to fall apart for a little while.


	3. Aruba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first morning of their honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naughty things happen, so if you don't want to read skip forward

The sound of waves and a warm, fresh breeze woke James first. He sighed and stretched, pressing Richard's sleeping form closer to him. Opening his eyes, thinking London was receiving an unusually warm and beautiful morning, James realized his view was quite different: white sand, an ocean of crystal blue, a couple of trees. 

A simple platinum band on his ring finger.

It was amazing how different James May felt. And indeed he was different. He was now a married man, something he had never been able to say about himself before. From now on, no matter what happened, he would always have that designation as a part of him. And he was now married to the man he'd always wanted, his beautiful, brave, funny Richard. Everything in their lives now could be marked as BM (Before Marriage) and AM (After Marriage). James liked that idea.

Snuggled against his chest, Richard whispered, "What time is it?" sleepily.

James glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Just before 8," he answered. 

Richard groaned slightly. "I should've gotten up for my morning run," he replied. "What happened? Forget to set the alarm?"

James chuckled; Richard never woke up well, and getting older didn't improve that fact. "Look where we are," James gently coaxed. 

Richard rolled over in James' arms to take in the view. There was a beat, and then Richard simply responded with "Oh."

"Oh?" James shot back. "We're in bloody _Aruba_ , on our honeymoon, with a view like _that_ , and all you can say is 'Oh'?"

Richard rolled back over and snuggled into James' body. "Not awake enough yet for much else," he mumbled. Richard's breathing evened out as he came close to falling back to sleep. "Is there any coffee yet?" he finally asked, bringing James out of his half-sleep.

"I ordered breakfast last night, before the reception got too far out of hand," James smiled at him. "All we have to do is wait."

"Are we having to do anything on this trip?" Richard asked, "or have you managed to utilize that genius brain of yours and think of everything?"

"Unlike your idiot brain, Hammond, I've made it where we can do nothing if we so wish," James told him. "We are in a private bungalow, on a private beach," he punctuated this point with a kiss. "And that private beach is in a very private inlet, and that inlet is part of a very exclusive resort. We are away from prying eyes, so we can do whatever we want."

Richard pulled James back down into another kiss, this one longer and more insistent. "Mmm...part of me just got fully awake with that answer," he muttered against James' mouth. "I can certainly use my imagination on what that means."

"Ten days of it," James purred. "Wherever and whenever." He gave Richard a devilish smile, one Richard could imagine a hungry lion would give to an antelope. James reached down with his hand and began stroking that part of Richard that had become quite awake and curious. "I'm curious as to what your imagination says we can manage."

Richard's dark eyes had grown darker with each passing moment. "I would say," he nearly squeaked, his voice cracking as James used his fingers to delicately fondle Richard's scrotum, "lots of touching would be involved?"

"You could say that," James answered. "What else?"

"Fun with food... eating off one another..."

"Sounds like fun," James replied, nibbling on Richard's earlobe and the sensitive pulse point just below. Richard moaned softly.

"Being naked, if you can stand such a thing. Naked swimming, time in the shower together, enjoying each other..." Richard's hands tangled in James' hair as he discovered Richard's nipples and began to play with them with the tip of his tongue.  
"Good guess. Keep going."

"In short," Richard whispered, his voice at least an octave lower, "sucking and fucking to our heart's content..."

James looked up at Richard, his blue eyes on fire. "God, Hammond, I love when you use your imagination," he gasped. He continued to move lower, his lips causing Richard's skin to jump seemingly of its own accord. Then Richard pulled James back up and kissed him, letting his tongue explore deeply into James' mouth; from the happy little sound James made, Richard could tell he enjoyed it very much.

Richard rolled over until James was underneath him. He stared down into James' blue eyes, now dark with lust. "I've always had an amazing imagination," he smiled fully. "Let me show you." From there he explored James thoroughly, rediscovering places that made James shiver and moan deep in his throat. It had been awhile since Richard was slow and relentless, and he wanted James to feel everything. James could hardly believe the sensations Richard was providing--soft breath on his skin, a brush of his lips here, a firm lick from his tongue there. James was feeling worshipped by this man, his sensitive skin set on fire.

Richard coated his fingers in lube and gently entered James, softly stroking him, watching as James' expression moved from desire to pure need to love to combinations of all of them at once. When James was ready, Richard coated himself down and slipped inside, feeling surrounded by heat, wrapped in his own combination of love, need, and desire.  
"James..." he whispered as he stared down into his face, feeling nearly overwhelmed. "Damn..."

James caressed the side of Richard's face. "It's okay," he whispered back tenderly. They moved together as one, feeling the breeze on them carrying the sounds of the entering tide. The sounds they produced--the moans, the growls, the panting--became the music that allowed them to become lost in one another, their tempo rising.

"Touch yourself," Richard gasped to James. "God, so beautiful..."

"Rich..." he breathed as he took himself in hand, stroking as Richard's thrusting reached a fever pitch. James threw back his head as he found his release and cried out, squeezing around Richard as he shuddered, unloading deep inside.

Afterwards they lay together, still joined, unwilling to break contact, still craving skin-to-skin contact. All this time together had rarely felt this wonderful, and they'd been truly inspirational before. "Did you feel...that?" James asked.

Richard looked up into James' beaming face, knowing in his heart what was meant by _that_. "Yes," was all he answered.

James sighed with contentment. "And to think we have the rest of our lives to remember how it feels and try to find it again."

Richard smiled. "Were going to have a lot of fun trying," he replied.


	4. Hammersmith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard has a realization.

"Finally back," James sighed as he and Richard entered the house with luggage in tow. They had encountered few paparazzi at the airport and gave the appearance of traveling as friends, which meant the news of their marriage had yet to reach these shores. In the tabloid world, ten days was nearly a record in England for keeping a secret. Then again they'd spent _years_ keeping their true relationship a secret, so...

"Thanks for the veggie burger on the way," James announced.

"Well, you never eat enough on long flights," Richard answered as he gave James a quick kiss. "I have to make sure you stay healthy."

James grinned. "Especially after the last ten days," he added. Their honeymoon in Aruba had been ten days of sun, beach, and sex. Lots of it. Explorations and experimentations, with not a lot of food that wasn't part of sex, and the only sleep between long sessions of sex. By the time they boarded the flight home, both men had their libidos thoroughly sated. Or expanded exponentially. "As far as unpacking goes, let's dump everything in the hamper and leave it until tomorrow."

Richard's eyes went wide. "Am I finally starting to rub off on you, May?" he asked.

"No," James argued. "It was a long flight home, and I think we both need some sleep. And I mean sleep, Hammond."  
"And a shower," Richard nodded. "Let's go."

James made sure to lock up and turn the lights off downstairs before joining Richard upstairs. Richard had indeed dumped all of his clothes into the hamper. James was next, though by the time everything got in, the hamper wouldn't completely shut. James undressed quickly and joined Richard in the ensuite bathroom. 

Richard was sitting on the closed toilet, a faraway expression on his face as he stared at his ring. "Rich?" James asked.

Richard looked up at him. "I'm married, James," he said solemnly.

James nodded. A kernel of worry popped up inside. Since his brain injury in 2006 James had been aware of very slight differences in Richard's demeanor--nothing extreme or even noticeable most of the time to anyone other than those intimately involved with him before and after--but he knew they were there. His accident in Mozambique showed no sign of brain injury. But at this moment James wondered if there was some kind of very delayed reaction. "Is there a problem?" he asked cautiously.

"I was sitting here, just...remembering things," Richard told him, his voice soft and sad. "I fucked up everything so much in my last marriage I never thought getting married to anyone else would ever be an option. Who would want to take on that kind of baggage, right? Especially someone who'd never been married before. Even you didn't want me for awhile."  
"I always wanted you," James countered, running his hand through Richard's hair. "But I didn't want waffling back and forth while you sorted things out. I had to be sure in my own head. Then I wanted you to settle in and decide we were supposed to be together. And you did. And once I asked you, I freaked out over myself, and I made you the excuse. But there has been only one thought I've had in my head for the longest time." James' fingers cupped Richard's chin and tilted his head up to look at him. "It doesn't matter how fucked up you get or I get or we get or the world gets, I want to be with you the rest of my life."

Richard tried to be manly at that moment and not let his eyes well up over that statement. He failed. "James...fucking hell, mate. I love you."

"And I belong to you," James answered as he captured Richard's lips with his own.

They showered together, which they rarely achieved, but tonight they were both too tired for sex. They dressed in their sleep clothes and turned out the light, snuggling in close.

"James?" Richard asked in the dark.

"Yes?"

"In case you haven't realized yet...I am very happy I married you."

Richard said nothing else, drifting off to sleep almost immediately. In the dark, James smiled, kissed Hammond's forehead, and pulled him closer.


	5. Switzerland

James was allowed to be released from the hospital the next morning. Jeff Bezos from Amazon paid for hotel rooms for everyone, knowing they would have to remain while inquiries were made into the event. His sister Jane was with him, arriving from London the night before. James said very little, and what he did say was brief and subdued. Jane hated to see her brother so sad, but she knew exactly what Richard meant to him, too. Especially during their separations, whether due to work or when James was hoping to win Richard, or when insecurities threatened it all, Jane had been James' sounding board, and guaranteed to kick his ass when necessary. Of all the family he could have with him right now, Jane was ideal.

Andy was handling the news media, which had become a circus, and when he needed time for himself he let others take care of it. Normally Jeremy would be alongside Wilman in handling the media over something like this, but not this time. Clarkson was simply too shaken. Andy knew Jeremy was an absolute genius at times like this, but there was already one who had to be hospitalized, and Jeremy was riding the ragged edge himself. Andy knew there were going to be lots of questions, especially among those outlets who either weren't around in 2006 or who had no clue other than someone on a car show had died. The last thing Andy desired was to have a deeply emotional Jeremy facing TV cameras. And he didn't want some of those in the know taking this opportunity to have a go at Jeremy to catch a moment on camera. Most of all, he wanted to protect James. 

Everybody in the business seemingly wanted time--from the BBC to CNN, morning news shows from around the world, to outlets who specialized in automotive subjects. There were even entertainment shows and media who normally featured movie stars and their latest scandals. James knew none of this--Jane made sure the TV stayed off lest a stray mention of Richard pushed James deeper into the black hole of grief. James also had no desire to go on either his Twitter account or DriveTribe. It was simply too much to deal with.

James sat in a chair in the suite, staring out the window. Since the accident and the aftermath something had gone numb inside. A part of him wanted to scream, to cry, to rage at everyone and everything for taking Richard away. He wanted to throw things and hurt others as much as he did. But he couldn't do it, he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't a sense of propriety or trying to be strong for everyone that kept him from it. God knows he felt anything but strong. He simply felt numb inside. 

"James?" Jane said softly. He looked up into her face. "I have someone here who really wants to see you."

James sighed. "I can't," he murmured.

"Please, James," she replied. "It might be good for both of you."

"Jane--"

"Please?" She ran her hand through his wavy hair. "Please?" James finally nodded. "Thank you," she answered. James resumed staring out the window.

Then came a very soft, sweet voice. "James?" He looked up again into the heartbroken eyes of Willow Hammond. James could almost swear he was looking at Richard again. His eyes filled with tears.

Willow practically ran into his arms when he stood. Embracing her fully, James felt his sorrow burst out of him, obliterating the wall he'd built inside himself. She wept in his arms, and he wept in hers.


	6. London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for jumping around. I am trying to post these in the order I wrote them.
> 
> For the technically oriented, I don't know if the Concept One is the first electric supercar or not, Tesla may be. But it might be the first to live up to the hype. An electric car that can go 220 can't be common, right?

"Well, you two certainly look...rested," Andy said to Richard and James as they sat down in the conference room for their production meeting. 

"Aruba was nice," Richard answered simply. It was really...um--"

"Relaxing," James finished quickly, though everyone noticed the little grin that appeared with that statement.

"I'm not sure everyone wants to risk their sanity hearing the details, May," Jeremy grumbled as he sat down.

"Don't worry, Jez, I'm sure we got most of it on video if you want to watch later," Richard answered dryly.

Jeremy glared at him. "I'm quite sure I have no desire to see how hamsters do it with spaniels, or even to see if you two do it like donkeys," he announced to boisterous laughter in the room. "I'll pass."

"Funny," James replied, "that's not what I found on your phone. You like that special section on RedTube, don't you?" This was met by even more boisterous laughter, and even Andy joined in.

"Enough chatter," Andy managed once he got a hold of himself. "One thing I wanted to tell you guys...we finally got the clearance for an episode in Switzerland."

"Switzerland?" came the reply with multiple jaws on the table.

"But, they hate our show in Switzerland," Richard stated.

"They put you in jail if you go too fast in Switzerland," Jeremy added at the same time.

"It will be like driving the Blue Ridge Parkway," James said at the same time.

"Statements one and two are true," Andy acknowledged, "usually. To keep statement three from coming true, your fearless leader has arranged for us to work around the Hemburg Hill Climb." There was astounded silence. Hemburg had been something of a vague dream among staff members for years, one of those ideas to be tossed around in hope but the knowledge was there it would never happen. It was simply too difficult to get permission to do anything much in Switzerland involving cars, and never for going fast in cars.

Jeremy was the one who suddenly remembered this point. " _The bureaucratic mentality is the only constant in the universe_ ," he stated, paraphrasing a line from a Star Trek film. "My bet is we'll race wheels of cheese, right?"

Andy gave the grin of a cat eating a canary pie. "Oh, ye of such little faith," he tutted. "I can't announce what you'll be racing yet, there are a couple of details to hash out, but I promise you two things. It won't be wheels of cheese. And for the 25,328,764,789,754th time since we started working together, you're going to call me a genius." 

***

"What do you suppose Wilman is up to this time?" Richard wondered aloud as he and James walked back to their respective offices. 

"Hard to tell," James answered back, "but he certainly had the air of smugness about himself. He knows he's pulled off something spectacular."

"Hemburg is spectacular," Richard stated. "The question is what we're doing the Hill Climb in and how spectacular that will be." Richard smiled. "If he ends up getting us great cars, I will pledge my undying love for him in front of everyone."

"But you already pledged your undying love for me," James argued, an expression of mock hurt on his face. 

"I did do that, didn't I?" Richard replied sheepishly. "Oh. Well, of course there's undying love and undying love." 

"Care to explain, Hammond," James smirked, "or would you not care to shove your foot further into your mouth?"

Richard gently backed James to the wall. "I will explain," he offered, "in case you need it. One is my fearless leader and lets me get paid to play around." Richard' s voice grew soft and tender. "The other is the one I belong to. And he makes me want to get my work done so I can find out what I can shove into my mouth tonight besides my foot."

"Is that a promise?" James asked as Richard felt him tremble. 

"Very much," Richard answered.

"Then we shouldn't waste time chatting."


	7. Switzerland

James and Willow sat together for hours. Everyone knew how close Richard had been to Izzy, but to James Willow had been the real treasure, because to his delight (and Richard's occasional exasperation) she had been the one most like her father. James had been looking forward to seeing Richard nearly tearing his hair out trying to corral a carbon copy of himself, screaming how he couldn't possibly have been the same, only to be reminded he was actually worse, and Mindy was in there as a calming influence. And now he wasn't going to be there.

Willow's visit had stripped away from James the feeling of being numb inside, and over the next couple of days he wished the numbness would return. Now he felt like a cartoon character who had run off the edge of a cliff and was running in midair, but unaware there was no ground beneath his feet, only a long drop. Surrealism seemed to have replaced common sense. There were the multiple inquiries to determine the cause of the accident, his account of what he saw and how he reacted. The questions and requestioning, convinced he was somehow going to change his story. The forms that had to be filled out, everything from health and safety to getting permission to fly Richard back to England.

Jane was careful on who came in to see James. There were those she knew he would want to be around, such as Richard's family, Jeremy, Andy, some of the crew who had known him forever. But she felt he was too fragile to handle much, and those she felt were unnecessary were filtered, and then she sat in on the conversation. There were a few turned away, told in no uncertain terms her brother needed time and he would see them another day, to please respect his privacy. This of course succeeded in pissing off the tabloids, who couldn't get exclusive interviews with those closest to Richard, so they made up their own stories. 

James was unprepared for the real fight that broke out. There would be a delegation of people who would fly Richard home, with everyone else coming home either before or after. Of course everyone felt they should be part of the procession. Some had valid reason to believe this, but the procession needed to be kept small. And it was clear some simply wanted to be seen. By the time James heard the pitch from all involved, he felt like a contestant on Big Brother listening to everyone else giving their reasons to not be put up for eviction. In the end, amongst the squabbling, James decided the procession would consist of Izzy and Willow, accompanied by Mindy, Richard's brothers Andy and Nick, and Jeremy and Andy Wilman. Everyone else would simply have to understand. There were ruffled feathers and more than a few bruised egos over this decision. James wisely left soothing them over to his sister and retreated to his bedroom for a nap. Once alone he marveled at himself. He'd spent his entire adult life making decisions for himself. No, even younger than that--his genius mind was setting schedules for study, piano practice, and bedtime as a boy. And now he'd nearly suffered mental paralysis over something that should have been easy. Richard had been there helping him make decisions just long enough to make him feel like he couldn't do it by himself anymore. He felt tears form and he didn't stop them. And somewhere in the tears he drifted to sleep.


	8. Hammersmith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I would end this posting session on a less sad note. Naughtiness abounds in the second half.
> 
> BTW for the curious the episode of Torchwood referenced is called   
> Countryside, and it's perfect for Halloween. Very scary.

Richard shifted uneasily in his sleep and awoke, for half a second as he normally did wondering where he was. The momentary confusion had become standard for him, partially due to the old brain injury, partially due to travelling so much for work he slept in different locations. But he felt James' body next to him and smelled familiar scents and relaxed. Then he realized James wasn't asleep. "You okay, mate?" he whispered gently as he stroked James' shoulder.

"Yeah," James whispered back. "Just having trouble sleeping."

"Bad dream?" Richard asked. Nightmares had plagued James for years, and Richard had learned how to properly comfort him and help him fall asleep again, instead of letting James dwell on things. They'd nearly lost each other because of them, and both were determined to never let it happen again.

"Not this time," James answered. "Just sorting something."

Richard grinned in the dark in relief. "Well, 'sorting' in the middle of night won't help you sleep," Richard offered. "Are you separating your black socks from your brown socks from your 'special' socks again?"

"Something more important, Hammond," he stated. 

Something about this fascinated Richard and he sat up in bed, turning on the bedside lamp. "That certainly has my attention," Richard replied. "Tell me."

James was silent a moment, staring into Richard's eyes. "I was thinking of the house," he said. "I was thinking of how I know everything about it, every inch and crack and creak. Because this is my house. And I had you move in here, move your stuff in, and for years before that I had you come over, but it was always my house, my home."

"Yes?" Richard answered, nodding at James to continue.

"Don't you get it, Rich? This is _my_ home, not _our_ home," James replied. "We're together now, we're married."

"We are married," Richard acknowledged. "And your point is...?"

James blinked. "Doesn't this bother you, at least a little?" he asked. 

"Why should it bother me?" Richard smiled at him. "I'm going to say something really cheesy to you right now, but please don't give me shit for it because I mean every single word, okay?" He sighed. "James, I am at home wherever you are. I am just as at home when we're in Norway, or Australia, or Uganda, or the bloody North Pole when you are in a truck with Clarkson racing me on a fucking dog sled, as I am here with you. I love you." He kissed James, letting it linger. "But," he added, catching his breath, "if it bothers you, we can always get another house together."

James smiled at him. "When we return from Hemburg," he answered as he turned out the light and pulled Richard closer. "Promise me, though, not Wales?"

"Not Wales?" Richard asked. "Why?"

"Didn't you ever see that episode of _Torchwood_ set in the Welsh countryside?" James asked. "I don't want to find the perfect house in a village that secretly engages in cannibalism."

Richard laughed. "So, not Wales. Promise me, not London?"

"Not London," James readily agreed, knowing Richard barely functioned in large cities. "What about Scotland...?"

***  
The next morning, Richard awoke to a familiar, but pleasant, sensation. The top of James' head was starting to disappear under the covers as his mouth lovingly explored Richard's torso and stomach. "Mmmmm, I think someone woke up happy," Richard purred.

"From the look of things, Hammond, so did you," James' reply came muffled under the linens. James continued his meandering journey southward; Richard didn't pull down the covers to watch, simply allowing himself to feel the sensation and guess where James would go next. By the time James' tongue found the shaft of Richard's rather hard and leaking cock and began tasting hungrily, Richard was fisting the sheets and feverishly murmuring obscenities in any language he could manage, including the King's English. 

James loved sex, though he really wasn't seen as a sexual being by most people; people responded to his intellect, his musical ability, his ability to write, his spot-on and quick wit. But not as a sexual animal. In the right circumstance, with the right person--male or female--sex was astounding. And Richard had always been the most right. It wasn't just the obvious beauty and sex appeal of him, it had always been so much more. Richard's body contained the road map of his life: the smooth skin a product of his suburban Midlands upbringing; the few rough places down there the marks of a childhood daredevil; the manly-but-delicate, proportional hands the hands of an artist who could hold his own with a set of tools, especially when young and poor and needed to keep a car or bike running by himself. And his face, that face that held the lines of laughter and rage, the wrinkles around his eyes of adventure; the deep brown wells of his eyes whose soul contained his love, his fear, his lyricism, and the darkness of near-death experience on more than one occasion. James loved to explore Richard's life in this way, through intimacy: a lick here, a playful nip there, caressing, listening to Richard's notes of approval, the life surging under his hands through writhing, arching, trembling. So as Richard once again became lost in James' exploration, James knew he'd been lucky enough to be given the one whose life would be in his hands the rest of his life. And he intended to spend the rest of his life exploring.

Richard was losing control as James sucked him expertly. Then James inserted a lube-slicked finger and stroked his prostate and Richard shattered, coming with a low moan, his hips rising off the bed in an unconscious attempt to force James deeper inside. James swallowed and licked Richard clean as Richard took his time to come back to himself.

Richard found himself being held gently by James as calming words were placed in his ear. He smiled knowingly: only James had the consistent ability to physically wring him out before he'd even had the first cup of coffee in the morning. He could also feel James had yet to take care of his own need. "Beautiful," he whispered. "So beautiful... was this because I said yes to house-hunting?"

James laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "That helped," he answered, his eyes dancing. "At least it will until we have our first squabble over closet space."

"Or financing," Richard added.

"Somehow I don't think that's going to be much of a problem, Hammond," James replied with a grin.

"Oh, but think of all the 'making up' we'll have to do," Richard countered. 

James nodded, looking serious. "All that stress, the tension...we'll have to find ways to manage it."

"I hope you can teach me constructive methods to deal with it," Richard teased him.

"Oh, I know a few things," James smiled. Before Richard could ask their mouths were locked together in a kiss, their tongues dancing together lustfully. James was already hard, and Richard had stroked James occasionally throughout his own recovery period, stoking the flames. He used his fingers to prepare Richard, not difficult considering he had been doing so earlier, and slipped into the nearly searing heat. James shuddered, trying to control himself. Richard felt desire coursing through his veins, knowing the love he was surrounded with by this man. Sex had never felt this way with anyone else. He loved fucking when he was young, but through Mindy he learned about true intimacy, and how much better sex was when it was more than just fucking. Then James showed him what it meant to truly belong to someone, to know whenever James touched him it felt right. And if he could feel this way every morning he would eventually die a very happy man.

As James began to thrust Richard could feel the fire begin again deep inside, even though he was sure his cock may not respond in kind. It was fed along by James' obvious signs of pleasure, the glazed expression in his darkened eyes, the way he rolled his hips slightly with every push that Richard felt every time his prostate was grazed. Both moaned in their pleasure almost simultaneously, then Richard arched his back and drew James in deeply. 

"Rich..." James gasped. "Hammond... oh God..." James thrust hard into Richard, the only sounds for a few minutes the slapping together of skin, the rhythmic creak of the bed, and their collective grunts of effort. Then James came, spilling deep inside Richard, his body shuddering as he fought for his breath. When his senses cleared Richard was beside him, caressing his face gently. There were no words between them during the afterglow, just touches and kisses, and the sure and simple knowledge this was the way everything was meant to be between them.


	9. London

"Gentleman," Andy began, "It's been a bit of as ordeal, but we are finally ready for the subject of our episode at Hemburg."

"This is rather formal of you, Wilman," Jeremy replied. "Just tell us you got us good cars and we're not racing wheels of cheese down a hill."

"This is a special occasion," Andy replied good-naturedly and grinned. "I know there have been rumblings about the eventual demise of the internal combustion engine, and you have argued whether an all-electric supercar can hold its own against the supercars of old."

"Well sure, the McLaren P1 does that," Jeremy commented.

"But it's a hybrid," Richard argued. "So is the Porsche 918."

"And Ferrari uses hybrid technology in the LaFerrari, but they don't want to go electric yet," James added.

 

"Aha!" Andy announced, holding up a finger. He handed out photos. "There is a company out of Croatia called Rimac." He watched the guys' eyes light up looking at the pictures. "That is called the Concept One. And... they're letting us play with it at Hemburg."

All three shared the look of young boys at Christmas. Of course in the car world the Grand Tour were considered among the in-crowd, and for awhile the in-crowd had whispered among themselves of a mythical, all-electric supercar that came from a strange place that really could go up against the big boys. When Andy showed them photos it was as if they'd been given photographic proof of the existence of unicorns; Andy telling them they were going to drive it was telling them they were going to _pet_ a unicorn.

"So, here's my idea," Andy continued after taking a deep breath. "We're going to do the yesterday, today, and tomorrow of the supercar."

Before Andy could ask for suggestions, Jeremy piped in. "You can't have a supercar discussion without Lamborghini," he said, his eyes glowing. "All supercars begin and end with a good Lambo."

"Then you want an Aventador," Richard piped in. "It's good, it's fast, and the fucker practically has laser gun sightings."

Andy nodded as he wrote it down. "Okay, a Lambo," he said. Then he peered over his reading glasses at them. "By the way, I haven't heard it yet..."

"We haven't said it yet today?" James asked. Andy shook his head. "Wilman, you're a genius."

Andy smiled; he didn't really need to hear that to feed his ego, but he loved to hear it anyway. "Thank you," he replied. "Okay, so what suggestions for modern supercars...?"


	10. Hemburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened that day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a retelling, and the chapter when it all happened. I tried to piece together what Jeremy and James wrote in DriveTribe. I don't think I did justice to the harrowing accounts they made, especially Jeremy's.

There was magic in the air tonight. It was the night before the hill climb, all three had received the supercars they'd wanted, and tomorrow was one of those Bucket List moments they'd longed for. Richard had been chosen to drive the Rimac, not in small measure because he was short and the Rimac had a low roof; this bolstered his claim that Jeremy and James were freakishly tall, and that normal men were not like the Dutch or Americans, who were considerably taller than him. Hammond had been driving the car for days, both on the test track and the road, and he'd declared the Rimac special

"It's like Genesis," Richard excitedly told James that night at the hotel bar. "It truly is the future supercar, and it's going to kick your arse on the climb tomorrow."

Jeremy smirked next to him. "He's Captain Slow, you idiot," he replied. "You could jog up the hill tomorrow and kick his arse in a race."

"...and the horse you rode in on," James deadpanned. "In supercar terms, the Aventador is a fucking dinosaur. You should dress like a Neanderthal when you drive it tomorrow. And don't forget your club so you can claim your woman later."

"Don't give him any ideas," Richard warned James, rolling his eyes. "The club, I mean. He's been dressing like a Neanderthal since...what...1977?" He snorted as Jeremy gave him a one-fingered salute.

"At least I can still claim _women_ ," Clarkson grumbled. "You should be grateful that I traded my room so you two newlyweds can have a room to yourselves." He ordered another round for the three of them. "I really do have to ask...are you guys happy?"

Richard gave James a warm smile. "We are happy," he answered, his voice soft. "In fact, after this trip we're house-hunting. James has finally decided he's ready to leave Hammersmith."

"As long as it's neither Wales or London," James added. "I decided it was time to find _our_ home, not just my place he's moved into."

"I guess that leaves the rest of the country, then," Jeremy stated. "The challenge will be finding a place that stimulates you, May, but small enough to keep the Agri-yob functional."

"Exactly," James replied. "Any suggestions?"

"Yeah," Jeremy answered. "My suggestion is **not near me**." He took a long drink. "So, what about you two? Want to see what kind of trouble we can get into around here?"

"Not really," Richard answered. "I think I want to call an early night." 

"That was my plan," Jeremy admitted. "Tomorrow is a big day for us." He smiled as he lifted his drink. "Sometimes in this job we get to have fantasies come true. Here's to the dreams of men."

"The dreams of men," Richard and James chimed in as they lifted their drinks.

***

James and Richard had a quiet supper and spent the evening in their room, sleeping between sessions of lovemaking. "Are you nervous, Hammond?" James asked as he held Richard in his arms.

"I'm always nervous before big shoots, you know that," Richard answered softly.

"I do know that," James nodded. "But I always ask. It keeps me from getting too nervous myself."

"You'll be fine," Richard replied as he nuzzled James. "You have a great car. But mine is a new animal. So many things can go wrong and I'll be unable to start it at the starting line."

James smiled as he shook his head. "You know that won't happen," he argued, caressing Richard's face with a finger. "Rimac is here. They're not a slipshod operation, and this is a big deal for them, too. They're going to make sure they look as good as they can." He paused. "They'll look better on-camera than we ever will."

"That's because we're starting to get old," Richard answered. "Well, one of us is already old. I'm starting to get old."

"You are not," James argued, "not at least judging from what you did to me earlier. You are bloody gorgeous, and when you finally get old you will still be bloody gorgeous. I hardly feel old, especially when you're around."

"Except you can hardly stay awake all night anymore," Richard pointed out with a grin. "And you don't recover as quickly between rounds."

"Neither do you, you pillock!" James shot back defiantly. 

Richard leaned down, kissing James fully. "That hardly matters now, does it?" he stated. "With growing up and maturing come certain truths. One of which says you can do the same thing multiple times and you'll have the thing done eventually. Or you can do the same thing once really well and finish. And with better results."

"So, in this case you'd take one really great, intense orgasm after one spectacular shag over being able to fuck all night?"

"It's not as if we're incapable of that," Richard mused. "I seem to recall we managed that a couple of times, especially in Aruba."

"We managed quite a few things there," James agreed. "Maybe we should buy a house and move to Aruba eventually." He gave Richard a smile that reached his eyes. "I would pretty much have you to myself. We do belong to each other after all."

Richard stared at James as he gave a watery smile. "When you say things like that, I tend to forget that I'm a bloke," he said softly. James kissed him, holding the back of Richard's head. They ended falling asleep in each other's arms, knowing after tomorrow a new chapter was coming for them.

***

A dream shoot, it was a perfect day and a perfect situation. This was special. Jeremy had his yellow Aventador, and had a blast running it up and down the hill climb several times. James had been given a Honda NSX, a modern supercar, and it had impressed him greatly. The talk, though, had been Richard's white Rimac Concept One, which took off silently, almost as if fired from a bow. The look also turned heads, and its speed was astounding for an all-electric car. The crew realized what Richard had known for the past four days, that evolution had happened in front of them.

James and Richard made several runs up and down the hill, the camera crew filming their cars from many angles. Jeremy had finished for the day; there would be some pickup shots tomorrow with the technician from Lamborghini behind the wheel before the car was returned to Italy. The three of them were to fly back home victoriously tonight.

Richard and James met Jeremy at the top, the finish of the hill climb, intent on catching a ride in the van back down. "As usual, I had the superior car," he crowed smugly. "You just can't beat an Aventador. It is a Lambo after all."

Richard and James both cackled. "That's precisely what you said about the P1, wasn't it Hammond?" James replied.

"Yes it was," Richard concurred. "And do you remember he was so confident he bet his house on it?"

"I remember that," James answered. "Jezza, what happened to your house?"

Jeremy glared at them. "You blew up my house," he answered reluctantly. 

"Yes, we did," James agreed.

Before anything else could be said the radio crackled. "Guys, there is a slight problem," they heard Andy say. Richard and James both groaned.

"You know what he's going to say next," Richard whined. "One more run."

"Of course," James rolled his eyes. 

"We need to do one more run," Andy said over the radio. 

Jeremy laughed as James sighed heavily and Richard shouted "No!" into the radio.

"I promise, this will be the last run," Andy pleaded.

"It's just one more," Jeremy chirped. "You've already done it many times today. How hard can it be?"

"Don't say that!" Richard shouted at him.

***

"I really don't want to do this," Richard groaned to James at the bottom of the hill.  
"I don't either, Hammond," James tried to placate him. "But what can we do?"

"We can be divas and refuse," Richard offered. "You know what always happens on the last run of the day when we're asked to do one more. Something will go wrong, it will take forever to fix, and then we'll have to stay another night and miss our flight home."

"Well now, really, is that so bad?" James asked with a smile. "Think about it. Stuck overnight together, nothing to watch on Swiss TV."

A light appeared in Richard's eyes. "I guess we would simply have to pass the time in some boring old way," he suggested.

James smiled at him. "I don't mind being stranded one more night with you," he said. "How about you?"

The smile Richard gave him was warm and full. "Not when you put it that way," he answered. They gazed at each other a moment. "I love you," Richard mouthed to James.

"I love you," James mouthed back. Their crash helmets were too big for them to reach in and kiss, so they simply touched their foreheads together, not caring who saw them or even if it had been caught on camera and would have to be edited out later. They shut their eyes and revelled in simply being with each other.

The magic moment was broken by Andy. "Are you ready yet? We need to get this flight home."

James sighed. "Ready?" 

Richard nodded. "Ready," he answered. Both walked to their cars and climbed inside, slipping on their their fireproof gloves and strapping in. Richard was first, James following behind. "You want one final shot?" Richard muttered as he gripped the steering wheel and waited for the flag to drop. "Watch this."

***

Jeremy had removed his helmet in the van when he realized Andy only needed Richard and James. He was done. Nothing more to do other than have some wine on the way home and celebrate a fantastic episode. "This is going to be good enough for the first episode of the season," he told Andy. "Don't you think so, Wilman?"

"Fuck yeah," Andy radioed back. Like everyone else, Andy had realized he'd caught lightning in a bottle yet again. This was the reason he'd left the BBC, not just because he was Clarkson's oldest friend, but because the three of them could be counted on to spin gold from straw, maybe even from thin air. Some episodes were noted for their epic adventure, some for their cinematography, some for the cars, and some for the humor of his presenters. Rarely, Andy admitted, had all the elements combined. Today they had. "One of the all time greats, Jezza. I--" Andy suddenly stopped. 

One of the crew was suddenly on the radio. "The Aventador's crashed."

"Shit, shit, shit!" Jeremy nearly bellowed. They were supposed to be getting pickup shots tomorrow. What were they going to do if the car was bent, or damaged in any way? Lamborghini was going to kill them slowly and painfully over this. Even if the company technician was driving it.

Then he saw the plume of black smoke. "Oh my God," he muttered as he ran for the van.

***

James loved the NSX, it was rapidly becoming one of his favorites. He figured every car company wanted to create a supercar at least once. Ferrari and Lambo lived to make them, so did Maserati, Pagani, and Koenigsegg. Nissan had one in the GTR, and--God forbid--even Lexus with the LFA. But James was chuffed that Honda had managed it because they would know how to do it properly.

But watching Richard drive off in that Rimac, now that was something else. It was a thing of beauty to him, the Concept One, the technical aspects pushing every button in his nerd brain. And while Hammond could understand its technology, he was more into the feel of the machine, the artist he is. None of that mattered at the moment as James watched Richard take off, though. All James knew in that moment was it was quiet. And fast.

They followed each other up the hill, James behind Richard. Richard crossed the finish line. But he didn't apply the brakes in time to make the next curve. James watched the Rimac make a sharp counterclockwise turn as Richard tried to save himself. And then the car slid off the road backwards.

James was going too fast to stop dead. So he crossed the finish line and continued until he could stop at the top of the hill. He managed to get out of the restraint in record time and ran to the edge, peering down.

The Rimac was upside down. And it was on fire.

***

Jeremy practically burst out of the van as soon as it reached the top of the hill. The smoke was bad, it meant the Lambo technician had to be in bad shape, or worse. That wasn't something anyone wanted. Sure, he was often accused of being an insensitive bastard, but he was anything but insensitive. The technicians from the automobile companies were uncredited crew members, they often became old friends, and now one of them could possibly be badly hurt.

Jeremy peered down the hill where the car had come to rest. It had obviously rolled, and it was now on its crushed roof and in flames. "We have taken the body behind the screen," he heard an official say over the radio. Jeremy noticed a covered area a safe distance away. Then Jeremy took another look at the wreckage.

The car was white, not yellow.

The Aventador had been yellow.

With dawning horror Jeremy realized what he was staring at was the Rimac. "Hammond," he muttered, feeling his knees go weak. "Oh...fuck..."

James ran up to him in that moment. "That's Hammond in there!" he shouted, his eyes conveying panic. "Jezza, we have to get him out! We can't leave him, he'll burn!" James and Jeremy had gripped each other by the arms, James trying to pull him along, Jeremy trying to pull the other way to keep him there.

"James, no! He's not in there!" Jeremy tried to explain, but James couldn't hear him.

"Come on, Jez! I need you to help me!" James started to pull away, moving in the direction of the burning wreckage. The only thing Jeremy could do was tackle James to the ground and pin him while he struggled and screamed Richard's name.

"MAY!" he screamed at his friend and colleague as James tried his best to squirm forward on his belly. "James, it's too late! It's too late!" James stopped, and Jeremy relaxed, giving James enough room to roll over to look at him. What Jeremy saw would haunt his dreams: a look of utter heartbreak, blue eyes welling with tears, which Jeremy could barely make out for the tears in his own. "But that's Richard," James stammered, "that's Richard. Please tell me it's not..."

"They took him out already," Jeremy explained, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. "They....they put him behind that screen..." Jeremy swallowed hard, knowing what would have to happen next. He would be called upon to identity Richard's body, something he dreaded. Judging from the mess the car was, not counting the burning, the carnage and trauma would be horrendous. But he knew he would have to do this. Mindy would ask him. And James would never be able to do it. In fact he was terrified to leave James on his own, convinced the second he turned his back James would try running for the car again. 

As if reading his mind, one of the security for the production team walked up and volunteered to walk down the hill to identify Richard. Jeremy agreed, knowing he probably wasn't far behind James in losing his shit. There were long minutes of silent dread between them, both waiting for the final word. He was sure by now Andy had heard there was an accident, but he wasn't sure if he knew who or how bad yet. Jeremy was psyching himself up for who he would personally have to call about this. There was Mindy, of course. He would need to tell his kids about Uncle Richard, they should hear it from him, not a newsreader. Em and Fin and Katya were grown up now, but they loved Richard, and Emily was among the first to champion Richard and James as a couple, at the moment light years ago in a different world. 

Over the radio there was a burst of static, then the sound of....wait, was that _laughter_? "You are not going to believe this," the security guy was saying. "But he's fine. Hamster's awake and alert."

Jeremy and James stared at each other in shock, then Jeremy stared at the remains of the Rimac. "How did that short son of a bitch...?" he asked James weakly.

James grabbed the radio from Jeremy's limp hand. "Is he injured? How bad is he?" James asked.

"He's complaining of pain around his left knee, it's being set in a splint just in case, but otherwise he's okay," came the answer. "He's asking for you guys."

Jeremy took the radio back as James wiped his eyes. "Were on the way," he announced. Jeremy waited until James had composed himself, then they walked down the hill together.


	11. In Transit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explains what happened to Richard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This begins a really sad part, the part that Frodo in LOTR said children get to and say, "Shut the book now, I don't want to hear anymore. Trust me , this and the next few chapters were equally hard to write.

The day was gray and wet when the plane left Switzerland for London, taking Richard back home. The mood was naturally subdued among the delegation. Izzy and Willow sat with their mother, trying to watch out for each other. Andy and Nick Hammond were talking quietly to Jeremy, Nick looking particularly bereft; few realized how close Nick and Richard had been as brothers, Richard oftentimes calling him up at work to make some impossibly rude statement in order to break him. Andy Wilman stared out the window, lost in thought. 

James sat off to himself, and everyone chose to give him a wide berth. Not that they believed he was being unpleasant, but to let him have some quiet time to himself. God knows that time would not exist for him in London, not for awhile. James shut his eyes and listened to the plane's engines...

_X-rays were taken of Richard's injured leg after he arrived at hospital, and by the time James and Jeremy arrived it was determined to be a serious break, requiring surgery to insert plates and screws. Also upon James' insistence, Richard was examined for signs of brain injury, given his previous history, and none was found. Richard had been slightly exasperated at the idea he wouldn't have his word alone trusted on this matter--he was well aware of his previous accident and was just as concerned as anyone with a previous brain injury would be. But he understood this had been James' way of feeling less helpless, so he couldn't fault him too much. And it was one less thing for James to worry about._

_James did take some pity on his husband, however. He brought in a bottle of Gin and after a couple of small cups he helped Richard make a video they posted to DriveTribe. Richard apologized to everyone for scaring them and reassuring he was reasonably okay in spite of the need for surgery. Of course James also got in a snark at Richard's expense, holding up a book he was reading by a neuroscientist called **The Idiot's Brain**. James hoped it gave the fans a laugh. They were sure to need one._

_"You know they're experts here at repairing broken bones," James had said to Richard that night. "They get their fair share of skiers who fucked up."_

_"I know," Richard sighed. "But they said I might end up shorter than before. You know I can't afford to give back height, I don't have it in the first place."_

_James snickered at that. "You have length where it counts, Hammond, don't forget it." He reached over and ruffled Richard's hair. "Why do you look so worried, love?"_

_Richard shook his head. "I'm just worried about you," he answered softly. "You got freaked out by what happened in Mozambique, to the point I nearly lost you. And this was worse. I...I thought for sure this was it, you know? That this time I was dead. I was never going to come out of that car alive. And in that moment I thought about you, wondering how would you be if that happened. Jezza too. I've always known Mindy could deal with things, she has always been one of the strongest people I've ever known."_

_"Women usually are," James nodded. "How my mother kept my father together after I was poisoned, I'll never know."_

_"Same with mine after my big one," Richard agreed. "But what if, now that I am going to be okay, what if you decide you can't be with me again?"_

_"Richard," James began, taking Richard's hand and kissing it gently. "For a long time I didn't really know how to deal with the big, unexpected things. Everything was planned out and had its proper place. Bloody hell, I even planned my firing from Autocar. But since your bike accident I have been getting help. It's the only way we ended up back together. You're not going to lose me over this, I promise." He kissed Richard's lips fully then, until both needed to catch their breath. "Remember in the vows it says 'for better or worse?'"_

_"But we didn't take those kind of vows," Richard blinked._

"You arse," James chuckled. "It's implied, isn't it?"

_"Yes, I suppose it is."_

_"Good. So is the part about 'til death do us part', but I really don't want to get to that part anytime soon."_

_Richard smiled. "Trust me, neither do I."_

***

_The next morning there had been a few minutes together between Richard's prep and taking him to surgery. "I always hated this part," he said softly. "I had to have my ears worked on when I was 6. Then my appendix, then the kidney stone issue. It's the waiting that gets to me."_

_James grinned in reassurance. "And all they intend to do now is give you a Swiss Army knee," he said. "Though a brain transplant might be better for you."  
"Thank you, Clarkson," Richard smirked. James laughed. The orderlies appeared in the hall. "Here we go," he sighed. "Are you going to be okay?"_

_James nodded firmly. "I'll be here when you wake up," he whispered. "I love you."_

_"Love you back," he replied and kissed James' cheek._

***

_"But....how?" James asked weakly to the surgeon._

_The doctor sighed. "It's called a Fat Embolism," he answered. "They're unexpected, and they travel to the heart or the brain. Richard had not even been transferred to the operating table."_

_"But he was fine," James argued. "We spoke to him," James indicated to Jeremy and Andy. "How can he be fine and then..."_

_"Fat Embolisms are unpredictable," the surgeon said. "We have seen them happen in the strong and healthy like Richard just as we see them in the sick and weak. And once they happen, nothing can be done." The surgeon sighed. "If it is any comfort, I do not believe Richard suffered. He was probably gone before the seizure ended, and that didn't last long at all. I am so sorry. Please excuse me."_

_That was when James started wandering, taking a look back at Jeremy sitting on the floor and Andy on the chair, trying to make his fingers work on the phone..._

James awoke with a quiet sob, hoping it had been a bad dream. Glancing around him told him otherwise. It was all real and Richard was dead and even in a plane with those close to him he was alone. In that moment Izzy sat next to him, who had clearly been crying herself. For a moment James completely forgot himself. He loved Richard the way a husband would, but this was her father who was gone and would never return. Richard would never see Isabella as an adult, finishing her studies and embarking on a career, would never give her away as a bride, would never place her first child in his hands as a grandfather. Izzy said nothing but she took James' hand and squeezed it, James noting how tiny her hand still was, just like Mindy, but had long, thin fingers like Richard. They were proportional, but she clearly was a mix of the two.

"I hope you know," James said gently, "that your father adored you. Even when your parents divorced and working out how to interact, you and Willow were always first in his heart. And if you let me, I promise to love you both the way Richard would want." Izzy's response was to lean her head on his shoulder and sigh, which is where they stayed until time to land.

***

The media went nuts at Heathrow. James, Jeremy, and Andy were accustomed to flashbulbs as they exited the terminal, but this was a scale none of them had seen since Princess Diana. Not only was it about a noted presenter like Richard Hammond dying, someone who was beloved by millions, the news had finally come out about his relationship with James. So peppered among the yelled questions of _Did you see the crash?_ and _Was Hamster trapped in the car?_ , there were questions that were designed to simply get a reaction: _James, why did you hide your marriage to Hammond? Were you ashamed? Did you think viewers would question their sexuality if two gay men were car show presenters? How did you turn Richard from his wife?_ James kept his eyes down and walked with the group to waiting limousines, which were taking them to a hotel; James especially wasn't ready to go back to Hammersmith alone.

James made it clear to everyone, including Jane and his parents, who met him at the airport, that he needed some time alone in his hotel room. Reluctantly everyone agreed, believing somehow James would harm himself. But if James was being honest, doing harm to himself would simply be too much effort, something he simply had no energy to do at the moment. He wanted to be empty, find some time to sleep and forget, a chance to not feel the grief of others when he wasn't sure of his own grief. As soon as he shut the door and kicked off his shoes, the weight of the past several days crashed down on him, pushing him to his knees. James tried to catch his breath, wondering if this was how it felt to actually lose his mind, feeling almost as if he was being torn apart alive.

On the floor, weak and dizzy and thinking he might actually die if he stayed there for too long, and for a moment considering whether to allow it to happen, James May managed one of the most difficult feats he ever pulled off in his life. He stood. He was never sure what strength possessed him, or if he would actually have given up his life on that floor and joined the man he loved wherever he was, but all the same he got off the floor. Only to collapse onto the bed and stay there. It was all he could do.


	12. Hammersmith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mourning

James stepped inside his house, knowing it had been a lifetime since he'd been there. Indeed it had been a lifetime--Richard had been here with him when he left this house, on their way to Switzerland. Hammond had carried that glow in his brown eyes, that special light of excitement over new adventure that always seemed to spread throughout his face and made him look remarkably young. He was still young, in spite of Life giving him a few things to try and dampen that inner fire. He would always be young now. 

James looked around the front room. Everything that had reminded him of Richard was still here, untouched. James knew that was something he would need to do himself, sorting through things, figuring out what would be here, what would be stored, what would go away. Of all the things his friends and family would do for him, the cruelest act would be his and his alone. They had correctly believed it should go to James, his husband, to go through the personal belongings. But that didn't make it any easier.

He stared at Richard's paintings for a long time, noting how focused Richard had always been when making them. Richard could write very well, could hold his own in conversations about torque ratios, gearboxes, or brake horsepower, was fascinated by subjects like science or engineering (which, along with several pints, was how he and James came up with the loony idea of making a space shuttle out of a Reliant Robin). What James realized was Richard was a fellow artistic soul longing to express himself. James stared at each painting he'd placed on his wall and admired the way Richard could see light and the interplay of colours in ways he could not. And in exchange he would play the piano, even though to the end Richard admitted confusion about classical music. James had loved to play Rachmaninoff to Richard, a fellow musician, and secretly noticed how his love would intently watch his hands on the keyboard. It had taken awhile after James' recovery to be able to play again. In a down moment it had been Richard offering encouragement, telling him how after his brain injury his imagination left for awhile, fearing it would never return, depressed over the loss of his creativity, and it came back. Now that voice of encouragement was lost. 

James sank to the sofa and wept. It was a pattern he would be stuck in for awhile.

***

James barely had the energy to endure the memorial services that followed. Richard loved Wales, it was where Mindy and his daughters continued to live, and everyone who knew him acknowledged how different he was living there. The private service was held in Ross-on-Wye, near Bollitree, the place Mindy humorously referred to in her weekly column as Hammond Towers. This service was only for the families and Richard's closest friends, including Jeremy and Andy Wilman. It was all a blur to James--one moment he was lining up with the family to enter the service, the next he was filing out with them. When he asked later, he was told he'd said some lovely, funny things about Richard, then he couldn't finish. Neither could Mindy. Or Richard's brother Andy. Nick had expressed his concern over James' condition, noticing he looked pale, wondering when he'd had more than a few bites of food. 

The moment James could remember clearly was after, back at Bollitree. As everyone had gathered for their own wake for Richard, Mindy had pulled James aside and walked him down the hallway. "As you know, when Rich and I were married he had an office where he'd do all his writing."

"I remember," James nodded.

"I've never gone through everything since the divorce, and I am sure Izzy and Willow will want to keep a few things to remind them of their father, but there is one thing I know Rich would want you to have," Mindy said softly. She handed James a small, framed picture from the wall.

It was a snapshot, that's all it was, but it had been carefully framed. It was a picture of Richard and James together. Richard's hair was remarkably short, while James' longer hair was still chestnut brown, with no hint of grey. "That was my first day on the new Top Gear," James said, nearly in wonder.

Mindy nodded. "Izzy was still an infant," she told him. "Willow wasn't even a thought yet. Richard had this in his desk drawer for the longest time. Not long before his first accident he brought me several photos from his office and asked me to frame them. This was one of them. It stayed near his computer until we separated."

James smiled in spite of himself. "I was convinced I was going to get sacked the first day," he said. "Then Richard came up to me at lunch and told me to relax and have fun, and I was no bigger an idiot than everyone else. I never realized he still had this." He looked at Mindy, his eyes welling. "Thank you," he whispered. 

Mindy looked up at James, her own grief visible. "We both loved him, James," she whispered back, unable to project her voice. "And we're both so, so lucky to have that very special man love us. He loved us all so much he couldn't make a choice. And I couldn't make him choose me over you and have it stick. I finally made the choice for him, and I'm glad I did. Because you were there to love him." James held her then, letting her cry against him, then she excused herself and he didn't see her again the rest of the day. By the time it was all over, James curled up in the back of Jane's car and he slept all the way home. He had no energy for anything else.

***

The public memorial service in London had its own drama around it. Nobody in James' sphere of influence could peek their head out a door without being inundated with questions about James and Richard. Everyone knew the best way to deal with things would be for James to take it on himself, but he was clearly not in the right frame of mind. 

"Not in the right frame of mind" was putting it mildly. James was clearly in mourning, deeply depressed, hardly speaking to his loved ones. Jane had surreptitiously checked on his alcohol consumption and found he wasn't even drinking, much less eating any of the meals that had been prepared for him and stored in the refrigerator; Nick Hammond had been justified in his worry James wasn't eating. James would simply sit on the couch in his living room, the curtains and drapes drawn. Jane mistakenly believed a little bit of natural light in the room might help. Within minutes of her throwing back the curtains the paparazzi were trying to place their lenses against the windows. The curtains were quickly drawn again.

Jeremy could be no help this time. He was as much a captive in his own home as James, the news media wanting some kind of statement from him. His grief wasn't as meaningful as what James was going through, but it didn't make Jeremy any more in condition to feed the vultures. Few wanted word on Hammond's crash, and most simply wanted to know what he knew about James and Richard, and when did he know it. At that point he'd lived with the secret for so long it was easy to ignore the questions. But more than once it took Andy to keep him from screaming _**Don't you motherfuckers give a shit that one of my best mates just fucking died? And I was there?? Would you want me there when one of your mates kicks it asking if they took it up the arse???**_ He had remembered how it was when his own mother died, how they'd treated him, and he just wasn't brooking their bullshit.

A week passed until the public memorial was held, and until an hour before it was questionable whether James would be a part of it. He swung between nearly unfathomable sadness to nearly blind rage at the news media for cheapening Richard and what they had together. He ate nearly nothing and hardly slept; finally a doctor was called upon to tranquilize him, just as he had been in Switzerland.

The morning of the service James felt the warmth of Richard's body next to his in bed. James had kept his eyes closed, trying to stay asleep as long as possible. Then Richard shifted, rolling over to deliver a sweet, welcoming kiss. James could feel Richard's tongue gently explore his mouth, as his fingers found the back of Richard's head and brought him closer, his other arm wrapping around Richard's back. There was a caress to James' face, the tenderness Richard would only show in very private moments. It felt exquisite. This wasn't sexual, this moment. This was a moment of emotion between them, a moment only they shared, a moment of belonging in the other's arms. 

Then James awoke. Richard wasn't there. James got up and immediately ripped the sheets off the bed in anger. He wanted the nightmare to stop and for a moment he thought it was done. But it wasn't. It would never be over. This was reality. This was James' reality, that he would feel this pain of loss and loneliness forever. For a dark moment he wondered if he could find something in his bathroom to help him join Richard. But then the fatalistic sliver in James reminded him it would be his luck that the pain would follow him beyond life. No, he thought, this emptiness was his to own, he would have it forever. Somehow those years with Richard had been the exception, but some bureaucrat beyond had discovered the mistake and corrected it.

"You can change your mind about this if you want," James' mother had reassured him later over breakfast where he only ate half a slice of toast. "Everyone will understand, and if not they will simply have to accept."

As Richard had before, given the same offer, James said he needed to be there. And that is how he stood before thousands of people hours later reading his speech on Richard. Like the service in Wales he didn't remember it, but Andy told him later he got through it and there wasn't a dry eye in the house afterwards. Indeed, the tabloids ran headlines like _**MAY'S MOVING TRIBUTE TO LOST LOVE**_ and _**JEZZA BREAKS DOWN FOR HAMSTER**_ for days, upbraided by the public over insensitivity for the death of someone so publicly loved. The BBC even ran a "Goodbye Hamster" tribute episode of Richard's greatest moments. Even though it had spectacular viewing numbers, in some locations even beating out football matches, nobody close to Richard watched it. Jeremy bitterly commented the Beeb at least had the good taste to appreciate him now he was dead. And James just couldn't.

***

The reading of Richard's will was a painful moment James remembered all too well. There was no drama, none was expected, and even the news media had started leaving everyone alone, finding other dirt to dish. 

The people James had gotten used to being around, with a few additions and subtractions, were gathered in the attorney's conference room. Half of Richard's estate naturally went to his daughters in a trust fund, which was considerably large. The other half was given to James, Mindy, his family, and various charities, and it was all considerably larger than most anyone suspected; the deal with Amazon for The Grand Tour was lucrative, and Richard had good accountants. Designated gifts were given, objects mostly that Richard believed would have special meaning to the recipient. Chief among these gifts was Oliver, his beloved 1963 Opel Kadett he got in Africa for a challenge then shipped home and restored. Richard gave Oliver to Jeremy, a true surprise to even Jeremy himself. James and Andy, however, knew better: despite his rough exterior and lack of mechanical sympathy, and as much as he mocked Richard for his emotional attachment, Jeremy Clarkson secretly loved Oliver as much as Richard had, even stating a few times nonspecifically how some cars have a personality. Jeremy would never drive Oliver--it was doubtful Jeremy would even fit inside--but within Oliver Jeremy would remember his mate/partner in crime/baby brother and take care of him. 

The attorney then played a video for everyone. Richard appeared on the monitor, made from all appearances just before he married James. The appearance of his smiling radiance, the knowledge of the depths of his happiness in that moment, was like a knife to James' heart. "Hi everyone," he began softly. "Well, you're watching this, and I'm assuming if you are I've really screwed things up this time and I'm actually dead. I guess that's okay, it had to happen sometime. Just so you know, I didn't seek it out, it's not like I am suicidal or have a death wish or anything. I..." here he smiled and appeared a bit sheepish, "I have to admit, I have made this video more than once in the past several years, ever since my big one in 2006 my attorney has advised me it's a good idea to update this every so often or things change in my life. As of now, something big is about to change, I'm about to get married again, I hope everyone is as happy as I am about it, including the one I'm marrying." James instinctively grabbed his wedding band and twisted it.

"I have a few personal messages I've recorded for each of you," Richard continued. "Over the next couple of months as all affairs are settled my attorney will send these to you. I hope you're all getting along with each other, nobody's fighting over who gets what. I tried to be fair, and everything I've given was done so after a lot of thought, which I note some of you are probably smiling to yourselves and trying to bite back a funny comment as I speak." Around the room, more than one gave a knowing grin. 

"Anyway..." Richard sighed. "I guess that's it. Hopefully you won't see this for awhile, and I hope before you do I've had to record this again a few more times. If not, though, I want all of you to know how much all of you mean to me. Whether through work or charity or friends or family, you have all mattered in my life in the most amazing ways. Take care." The video stopped.

There were a few hugs as they left the attorneys office, but mostly everyone was quiet and contemplative. James simply felt hollow inside. Seeing Richard again, seeing how happy he'd been in that video, instead of being comforted, James was reminded of how alone he was again. This time it wasn't a breakup, a tiff. Richard was really and truly gone forever.

And this broken soul simply broke even more.


	13. Heathrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Norway sequence and lines are a direct reference to _Night Call_ by Wildes. I hope I have done it honor.

Jeremy waited in the first class VIP lounge, this time anticipating someone instead of being the one waited for. This wasn't something he did often. Yes, Emily was living in Ireland and he would wait for her flights when she'd pop home. Somehow this was different. It had been nearly two years. And he wasn't waiting for his daughter.

When the doors opened for the international arrivals, who had endured Customs with the inquiries and declarations, Jeremy stood. Then there was James. He looked thinner than Jeremy recalled and he'd cut his hair again. But his blue eyes danced with interest, and that was something Jeremy had not seen in a long time. James walked up to him, smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you home?" Jeremy asked in greeting.

"For a couple of days," James answered simply. "One more trip to make."

"Where were you this time?"

"Vietnam. I recreated our trip from Saigon to Ha Long Bay. I even found a Honda Super Cub to do it with."

Jeremy smiled. "Fitting," he replied, "though I think motorcycles are still pretty fucking insane. Are you hungry? Of course you are--you never eat on planes. And you have to be missing good old fashioned pub food."

James chuckled. "Are you using this as an excuse to have some pints at the pub?" He asked.

Jeremy playfully glared at him. "When did I ever need an excuse for pints at the pub?" he asked. 

James laughed, a full laugh that sounded like music to Clarkson's ears. "Point taken," he answered.

Jeremy and James drove to Clarkson's London flat in silence, and once James dropped off his bag they walked to Jeremy's local a few blocks away. James breathed deep, taking in the cool air that threatened rain. This was different from what he'd experienced lately, and he sort of missed it. They ordered food and pints, and as James took a long sip his eyes closed in pleasure. "Bloody Nora, that's good," he practically groaned in satisfaction. "You don't truly appreciate the English until you taste what passes for beer in other countries."

"I miss what passes for beer in other countries," Jeremy replied. "I only get that on holiday now." He paused, gathering up courage for what he wanted to ask. "What happened, Slow?" he finally asked. "There was the buyout and shutdown, then before I knew it Wilman and I got calls from your sisters Jane and Sarah saying you'd pretty much gone Walkabout. What did you want from it, and did you get it?"

James took a drink. Someone was playing Katie Melua's version of "Just Like Heaven". It seemed to set the right tone for storytelling. 

***

In consultation with Jeff Bezos, it had been decided that _Grand Tour_ really couldn't go on without Richard, not the way he'd died and James needing time to recover, and serious questions on if he would. Jeremy and Andy negotiated a buyout of the Amazon contract, along with James' attorney, then a buyout of James; everyone was more than generous given the circumstances

The last time Jeremy and Andy saw James, he showed up to film a retrospective of Richard's life and career, a farewell to the series, quite possibly an end to their active careers. James appeared pale, the way he had in Wales and the memorial service in London. Jeremy had tried to take him out to get drunk after, knowing that James desperately needed it, but James politely declined, admitting he wasn't up for it. Jeremy let him go and James simply drove home.

He stayed in his house alone for weeks.

James spent his time deeply in mourning, some days finding it a struggle to get out of bed. The main bedroom was now closed off--too many memories of Hammond making love to him, memories of feeling Richard's hand stroking his hair to calm him after a bad dream, the scent of one of Richard's favorite leather jackets filling his closet--and bedtime was now in the guest room. Or the couch, which is where James increasingly found himself after not sleeping. His piano was unplayed, again too many memories of Richard with it. And he could never stop the tears that would form without warning.

Somehow he would manage to convince his family he wasn't just a hair's breadth away from falling apart completely. Jane might come for a visit, or Sarah might take him out for dinner, but James was always careful to steer the conversation away from the elephant in the room, the topic that James knew would make him shatter. There was no point in rehashing what everyone knew: the love of James' life was gone, and he would never recapture the joy that had been so cruelly taken from him. There had been worry before that James would always be alone, but that was before he'd finally won Richard's heart. In Richard, the women could see James had someone who was brave, affectionate, honourable, and despite his public persona highly curious and brilliantly creative. Now they worried how their brother would react to that loneliness again.

Finally, after weeks of solitude, of nightmares that had no real end, nights where drinking had no effect, of barely eating and not really speaking to anyone, James knew he had come to a moment of decision: if he continued to stay here it was the end of everything. He would lock himself in the house and never emerge again, unless it was to drive his Ferrari 458 off the Westminster Bridge with him in it. That would be so easy to do that the thought scared the shit out of him. So he packed a travel bag and grabbed his passport. He called his family to tell them his plan, and he took a taxi to Heathrow.

Under most circumstances, and had he been an ordinary traveler, there would have been several opportunities for him to stop and seriously reconsider what he was doing. But he was a common presence at Heathrow, so security people were friendly to him and made only cursory checks. The assumption was made that perhaps he was called for a last-minute shoot, or maybe he was presenting a show as a way to get away from things; after all, the reason he was currently in the news was quite clear. Even on the plane he wasn't approached, and he was left alone all the way to touchdown in Oslo.

It was a bit of an ordeal, but James finally made it to the hotel he wanted. There was a beginning here; though most of the real firsts took place at home, this first was special to him. The hotel bar looked pretty much the same, along with the presence of the grand piano. James had a drink, then took himself outside. He found the path through the forest almost by chance, just as he was about to give up on the idea and go back inside. But once he found the way he felt compelled to follow it to the end.

As predicted, the path led to a familiar place--the pond. It was the same time in the evening, with a very bright full moon bouncing its light off the fresh blanket of snow, the first serious snowfall of the season. James walked to the other side and lay down, staring up at the night sky.

It happened here, James thought to himself. He hadn't been fully prepared. Wanting it, yes, hoping it would happen sometime, yes, dancing around the moment, but not expecting it to happen. James had been caught off guard.

 _"Are you cold? Your lips look blue."_ James heard Richard's voice in his head. _"I'll warm you up."_ Then they were kissing. James could feel the light brush of Richard's lips against his. "Is that alright?" he remembered Richard asking in a soft tone he'd rarely heard from Hammond before, and when James had nodded, it was followed by an even more intense kiss in the snow.

James sat up and took a deep breath. He could remember that he reacted with shock and surprise, wondering if he perhaps revealed too much of himself. Richard had not reacted well, either. Of course they had worked it out...Then James was reminded of why he was here, alone. The grief felt like a knife to his heart.

It's not fair, you know," James murmured to the image of Richard he saw sitting in the snow next to him. "We promised each other this would be a place we'd come back to, together. We kept saying to ourselves we had time, we'd visit when we were both retired old men and there wouldn't be cameras and sound guys and the like. But then you..." Tears filled James' eyes. "Why did you do it, Rich? Why did you have to die on me? We were supposed to have time together! I kept my promises to you, and it's just not _Goddamned_ fair!" He sat and wept for a few minutes until his body reminded him how cold it was, then he wandered back to the hotel.

James spent the next couple of days curled in upon himself. He'd never meant to be angry at Richard, and yet he was. Richard had not kept his promises and now he was gone. James felt abandoned by him, and therefore angry for being abandoned. And then, perversely, James felt angry for being angry, and he felt guilty for being angry at Richard. Even the bottle of Aquavit he managed to empty never helped to untwist his insides; it simply gave him a murderous hangover. James felt like this had been a mistake, to come here alone; he genuinely had no idea what he was thinking. Feeling like he needed to escape Norway, but not feeling home was a good idea, either, James made his way back to Oslo and booked the first flight he could, this time to Australia.

Globe-hopping dominated his time for the next little while. He stayed in touch with his family, who begged him to return to England, but James couldn't bring himself home, not yet. But it also seemed as if he was walking through a graveyard wherever he went, there were so many reminders of Richard. Everything was a reminder of what he once had and lost. There were days when he had to remember to breathe in and out, and some nights he spent trying to vent his shattered heart as quietly as possible, hoping nobody would notice. Sometimes his rage at Richard for leaving nearly blinded him, and sometimes he was simply blind drunk.

Then, one day, he woke up and didn't have to remember to breathe in and out, and that eventually led him to not having to remind himself at all. He spent fewer nights blind drunk, which of course led to fewer days nursing hangovers. There were fewer nights he had to spend being as quiet as a mouse unless a stranger heard some kind of sobbing from his room. And the times he was angry at Richard smoothed to a dull ache when he had a memory. James realized it had been close to a year since Richard had died and he'd left home. He felt maybe it was time to return, at least for a few days. 

When James returned to Hammersmith, he spent his days boxing up Hammond's belongings, sorting what he wanted to make sure Izzy and Willow received and what would be stored. He thought this exercise would be soul-crushing, and had he attempted it six months before it would have been. Now he believed this was a chapter to finish before he could begin the next one. He spent time with his siblings and sent messages via them to Jeremy and Andy. He knew they wouldn't understand, but he simply wasn't ready to face them just yet.They would have to be in another chapter. 

And then one day James realized the new chapter in his adventure was beginning. It was time to travel again, but for a new reason. Before it had been to try to escape his memories of Richard. Now it was to embrace as many memories as he could. So the first trip was by train across to Paris, then to Milan. It had been an important moment for them, that race. That night, in spite of their misunderstanding, had been about more than sex. It had been their reunion after forcing themselves apart. They had touched each other truly as lovers, not just sex partners, and it had finally led to them understanding this point. Everything James had with Richard had come from this trip. Now he could savor the moment and appreciate it for what it was.

This trip opened the gates for James. From Milan he made it a point to visit everywhere they'd been together, either work or holiday, and recreate those times as much as he could. So there was a drive from Italy to Monaco in a hatchback, and a journey from Gibraltar to Madrid. He drove from San Francisco to the Bonneville Salt Flats back through the desert to the Mexican border, and from the Carolinas to Manhattan. He rode the Bullet Train in Japan and revisited the Okavango Delta in Botswana. Of course there were some rough moments: a bad dream or an overwhelming memory, or just a thought Richard might enjoy something would creep up on James unexpectedly, leaving him on the verge of tears, but they were less than before. And now he could embrace those moments and continue forward. 

Finally James felt prepared for a major journey--Aruba. He'd been able to book the same house and resort where he'd spent his honeymoon. When he first entered the cottage on the beach the memories threatened to engulf him. It was only after several deep breaths and allowing the tears to take place for a few minutes that he could finally embrace what he could see and hear around him. And those memories were clear, almost as if ghosts were in the house with him.

Over the days James walked around the area, sitting alone on the beach, remembering. Everywhere he'd look he could see himself and Richard together--walking on the sand, reading on a rainy afternoon on the sofa, lying together on the oversized hammock. And because it had been their honeymoon there had been other, powerful, memories. Staring out at the incoming tide, James could see him and Richard in the water. Richard had wrapped his legs around James' waist as James was slowly thrusting into him, Richard laying his head on James' shoulder, struggling to keep himself from coming too soon. Richard had always been such a wonderful lover to him, always engaged, so gentle, so giving, even during the times Richard had been the one to enter him, the one who initiated, the one who sometimes insisted. And James had always been respectful of not forcing him, not even as James took a shower and recalled pushing Richard to his knees to take his cock into his mouth. Before he knew it, James had taken himself in hand and was stroking himself, and when he came, shaking and having his vision blur, instead of the feelings of guilt and regret he expected, this had felt remarkably good. It had been a long time since he'd done this, had been a long time since he'd felt like doing it. 

Between Aruba and Vietnam James made a phone call. To Jeremy.

"Hello?" Jeremy sounded like he'd been to the pub, and he was just a bit tipsy. 

"Clarkson? May," James said softly.

It took a moment before Jeremy fully registered who was speaking to him. "James?" he asked, then came the clatter as Jeremy dropped the phone. "May, you fucker!" he practically roared when the phone was retrieved from the floor. "Where the fuck are you?! Judging from the time you're definitely not in England."

"Traveling," James answered. "Haven't my sisters been passing along my messages?"

"Of course they've done that, you idiot. But it's not the same as actually hearing from someone. To what do I owe the privilege of speaking to you?"

"Nothing special," James told him. "It's just been awhile and...I missed your voice."

"You did, huh?" There was a pause. "Is this the point where I ask you what you're wearing?"

"Fuck off," James chuckled. "Listen, it's been a long time and I had to start sorting shit out in my head, and I couldn't do that back there. But, I think I might be ready to come home soon. Do you think...uh...if I tell you when..."

"Oh, for God's sake, May," Jeremy grumbled. "Do you really think I just turned 14? You're asking if we're still going to be mates, aren't you?" James couldn't answer. "I suppose," Jeremy finally said, "if you don't act like a pikey."

Over the PA a flight was announced. "My flight has started boarding," James replied. "I will email you the flight info next week. Before I go, Jezza, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for just going away like that. I was fucked up and my choices were to do something stupid and desperate or do something else stupid and desperate. I chose the least stupid and desperate option."

"I'm just thankful you didn't go away to do harm to yourself," Jeremy replied. He agreed to watch out for the email and then they said goodbye.

***

Jeremy sighed after James finished his tale. By now they had come back from the pub and were now in Jeremy's flat, getting pleasantly drunk. "Why couldn't you come to us, I mean Andy and me?" he asked. "If you were backed into a corner like that, we would have tried to help."

James shook his head. "You never really had to face that, having a spouse die on you," he answered. "It was simply too much for me. Rich was everywhere and I had not learned how to deal with it. He was here, at home, and I just didn't think I could live with all the memories. Even in the beginning of my travels he haunted me. I tried hopping the planet to get away from him and found I just brought him with me."

"He was always an annoying little arse like that," Jeremy grinned sadly."You're wrong though if you think you're the only one haunted by him. With you gone God-knows-where and everything shut down I just couldn't hang out in the pub with my mates like I used to. I got pretty damn good at drinking alone. And when I got drunk enough he'd appear and keep me company. I had plenty of late night conversations with his fucking ghost, I tell you."

"I'm so sorry, Jez," James replied. That's how fucked up in my head I was, thinking I was the only one with memories of him. Nobody else could ever feel this pain but me."

"Your memories were different," Jeremy reassured him. "They were closer. You loved him." He grabbed and opened a new bottle of Scotch. "So what finally changed for you?"

James smiled to himself, reliving the memory. "Existence," he said at last. "The world, as much as I wanted it, didn't end. And as much as I thought I couldn't go on without him, I did. So I came back home for a few days and cleaned out what belonged to Rich, what reminded me of him. I kept some things, like his paintings, photos he took, a leather jacket. Most everything else was shipped to Wales for the girls."

"They miss you, you know," Jeremy said. 

James nodded. "I miss them," he agreed softly. "But they needed me to regain strength, otherwise I would've come undone completely around them and they needed to be the ones grieving." He sighed. "Anyway, after I sorted through belongings, which I couldn't bring myself to do before, I realized I needed to embrace my memories of Richard instead of running away from them. And that's what the last little while has been for me. I've gone back to places I knew had the strongest memories and relived them. You should have seen the things I saw, Jez. The people, the sounds, epic rainstorms, dust storms, landscapes, sunrises, sunsets. And it was like Rich was there the whole time, saying to me that I don't have to own the world, just see it for what it is. And then I came back." 

Jeremy stared admiringly at James. "So what about now, Sir Ranulph May?" he asked.

"There is one final trip to take," James answered. "I need to go back to Hemburg, to where it happened." He took a deep breath, gearing up for what he wanted to say next. "And I don't want to do this alone."

Jeremy shook his head emphatically. "I don't see the point," he argued. "You sound like you're on the right track without it. You'd simply torture yourself."

"If I went alone it would be torture," James agreed. "But this is the final step for me. It's not to say goodbye as much as to say I'm going to be okay now."

Jeremy drank his Scotch in silence. Finally he said, "I will go with you. But so help me God, you try to throw yourself off that mountain in some kind of pact to join him, I will run my ass down the side to find you, and then I will fucking end you. And nobody will find the body. Am I clear?"

"If I'd wanted to do that, Clarkson, there were other chances before now," James replied with a candor that left Jeremy cold inside. He was used to James being direct, it was one of his quirks that Jeremy admired. Still, he had not expected this level of brutal honesty. "I promise I won't do anything stupid."

"Good," Jeremy answered. He poured another glass and raised it in toast. "To Richard," he said softly.

James smiled, bittersweet. "To Richard," he answered.


	14. Epilogue

James kept reading and rereading his iPad, just checking to make sure what he wrote made any kind of sense. That was getting difficult at the moment; it was late, and since his return from Switzerland there had been a lot to do, and it had been awhile since then. Plus, he wasn't like Jeremy and could just whip out a book any time he felt like it. For James, writing a book was careful and considered. Writing about cars or science or toys or even wine, things could move quickly. Not so with this. He was writing about life. He was writing about Richard. And he was tired.

Tapping the 'save' icon, James leaned back and rubbed his hands over his face. With this last burst of energy he felt as if it was finally done with the first couple of chapters. It hadn't been long since they had been outed due to the accident and James felt the need to tell the story properly. There were tabloids and internet trolls already trying to make it a scandal, making things sleazy. Richard deserved better than that, after all it was their story. Keeping the story private had gone on long enough.

James felt the weight on the bed shift slightly, then heard a gasp of discomfort. Richard was emerging from his drug-induced sleep, but he hardly sounded pain free. "Hi," James whispered, putting down his iPad to pay full attention to him. "How's the knee?"

Richard gave James an affectionate smile, though one look in his dark eyes would show he was in pain "Sore," Richard answered, still groggy. "It's late, isn't it?"

"After 10," James answered. "I was writing. I finished the first chapter."

"Did you?" James nodded. "Can I see it?"

"Not just yet," he answered. "I have to tend to you first, since you're only allowed out of bed except to use the toilet the next couple of days." Richard pouted. "Come on, that's the deal you made for coming home instead of staying there. So, I am going to cut up an apple for you to eat, and since you're in pain you'll get another painkiller."  
"I don't like the painkillers," Richard groaned. He sounded like an eight-year-old who didn't want to take his medicine.

"It's only for two days," James argued gently. 

"I know, but..." Richard sighed. "They're giving me weird dreams."

That stopped James as he was about to exit the room. "What dreams?"

Richard shook his head "You'll just freak out," he said.

"Oh, no you don't," James replied sitting back down on the bed next to Richard. "You don't get to say something like that, then not tell me what you mean. What dreams?" Richard was silent. "Rich?"

"I died, James," Richard finally told him, closing his eyes to recapture the memory. "I died, and it was sad. I watched everyone fall apart, which I guess I should be happy for since they were falling apart over me, but I wasn't. You were the worst. You became unhinged and you just ran away from home and went all over the world. And then you got better."

James sighed, then leaned down to kiss his love. He lay his head on Richard's shoulder. "I can't imagine," he whispered. "If I were to lose you, I think I would just fall apart and I wouldn't get better."

"But you did," Richard countered. "In my dream it took awhile, but you learned to go on without me. You weren't happy, but you survived and you finally accepted what happened. You even went back to Hemburg with Jezza. And that's when I knew you were going to be alright." Richard tilted James' chin up to look at him. "You're much stronger than you think, and I've seen it before. That's what I saw in my dream."

"Dreams are one thing, reality is another," James replied. "And my reality says I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. If you had bought it in Hemburg, especially with me watching like that...I can promise you there would be no survival from me. Fact." 

Richard ran a hand through James' hair, stroking it softly. "I know better," he answered. "You were always alright. There has always been something inside you that could stand at the gates of hell and not blink. When I had my first big accident, you were the one who wasn't nearly destroyed. When nobody knew what to do to help put my brain back together, you brought me the Lego set. And you helped me play with them. Whenever I didn't know what I wanted to do with you, you're the one who decided what you wanted. When I was tempted by Carol, you drew the line and said no. You think I am stronger because I've gone through more shit."

"Correction," James stated, "you've gone through more shit and lived, including running a supercar backwards down a mountain and rolling it while avoiding a house, and just having a broken knee to answer for it."

"But that's the point," Richard continued. "It's not just going through all this. It's having what's inside to ultimately get through all of it. I've always had friends to help, and you're one of them. In fact, I don't think I would have muddled through half of it without you. I love you." 

James' response was to sit back up and kiss him deeply, a kiss that was gentle and sure, full of the promise of love for the future. Up close Richard could admire the beauty of James' full, open face, the wrinkles that showed endurance of sun and wind and laughter, framing those blue eyes that glowed and danced for him. Then James backed away and stood. "Be back soon," he said as he headed for the doorway. "Rich?"

"Yes?"

James gave Richard a smile. "You were always alright, too." As he heard James descend the stairs, Richard reached for the iPad. He didn't have time to read much, but what he could read moved him:

_When the car went off the hill--backwards, I might add--it was like something out of a cheap movie. My life flashed in front of me. But wait, I thought, wasn't that supposed to happen to the one it was happening to, not the one witnessing it? Except it was happening to me, and what I saw was very specific. It wasn't my whole life, it was my life since I'd started this insane adventure. They were flashes, really, but only one other was consistent with me. It was my mate, my love, one I wanted to spend the rest of my life loving._

_The tabloids want to make this a big deal, to make a sleazy tabloid scandal out of it. I can't blame them (Jeremy, maybe, but not me). It's what tabloids do, how they make their money and pay their employees. But the story isn't sleazy, it isn't scandalous. It's a story about two coworkers who fell in love, something that happens every day. Except it involved two presenters of a major car show, and both were men. And I was watching him drive backwards off a hill in a supercar._

_All I could think of was how I might never see him alive again. How we'd gotten here. And that I love him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's curious how things get in the creation. I swore I would never write a story about this, and yet I found myself writing it. I told myself that given the subject matter this would indeed be the last of the James/Richard stories I'd write; then again I also said the same thing after Anytime and Harmony Constant. Neither story was draining on me, just both ended at natural stopping points and couldn't see going further. But somewhere in imagining the chapter on Richard's crash in Hemburg I started to reconsider...
> 
> So, what I can say is if this is indeed my last Richard/James story here are some thank you's: first, of course for the source material, to Night Call by Wildes, which has provided the timelines and foundation (please find it and read it, it's brilliant). Thanks to Whreflections, who previewed a part if the story at DragonCon and encouraged me. Thanks to DragonCon itself for hosting panels on Fanfic (hilarious) and made it a safe place to 'come out' as a Fanfic writer, and letting me realize how big the Archive is on the Internet. Of course, thanks to Archive of our Own/AO3/OTW for giving us a home. And thanks to everyone who reads, comments, or gives kudos to the work. I am horrible at posting comments, but you are appreciated.


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